Comfortably Numb
by southern cross
Summary: Heavy with child he watched her; the gun cool in her hand she felt eyes on her back. Sarkney. S5AU
1. Chapter 1

Probably my favorite Sarkney piece to date. I love pregnant Sydney and wish more than anything that they had given us more Sarkney scenes with her big belly between them. I would love to hear opinions on this fic If anyone is still active in the fandom. I own nothing and mean no harm.

All roads had led to a quiet town in the heart of Chesapeake country. For the second Saturday of the month the main street was closed off, allowing the locals to descend en masse, to eat and drink until their bellies burst.

The community tradition had drawn her out as well. The need to know, to see with his own eyes had consumed him for 40 days and nights. Unable to tear his eyes away from the truth, he stepped away from the store front and after her.

With a thankful smile she took her purchases and headed back outside. Sighing, she turned right and began weaving around huddled families and yelling teens. Before she had entered the store she had felt it, the cold had crept up her spine, signaling the studious eyes of someone on her.

Hoping she had only imagined it, she was only half surprised and completely disappointed when the same sensation washed over her upon her exit. Slipping into an alley separating store fronts from parking she stepped into the shadows, gun drawn, and waited.

Time had changed her, but she was still the best. The admission had him drawing his gun as he stepped into the alley after her.

A dozen questions ran through her head as the figure emerged before her. Taking aim, finding a home just between the shoulder blades, she stepped forward. Having alerted her pursuer as to her exact location, words simply died on her lips when they turned.

Of all the people she had thought would be her first contact after so many months, he had not even crossed her mind. Then again, he had always been unpredictable.

Not bothering to raise his weapon, he took her moment of confusion to study her. Not able to stop the smirk that spread across his face as her confusion turned into that famous Bristow fury.

Dark clothes disguised the severity of her pregnancy rather than its existence, her hair was as long as it had been during an accidental meeting at Walker's place. Why he had held his tongue then was still a mystery, but then again Julia Thorne had been Simon's problem, not his.

"How did you find me?"

Biting back a laugh, he took a cautious step towards her. In all her surprised anger she was as beautiful as he ever remembered her being. What perplexed him was the fire boiling his blood from simply looking at her.

"I looked."

Blinking at his reply, she adjusted her grip on the gun. So he had looked for her. That told her nothing and he knew it. Rather than giving into the impulse to shoot him in the knee, she took a deep breath.

"Why?"

Why? Shrugging, he made a show of holstering his weapon, knowing the action would unsettle her as much as any of his words. Clasping his hands behind him, he did not hesitate to take another lazy step closer.

"I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

How could she have forgotten how absolutely infuriating he was. Distracted by his movement, she willed her feet not to move, concentrating instead on cocking back the hammer of her gun.

Catching a whiff of his cologne, something dark and wholly Sark, she realized she didn't want to kill him. Why couldn't he just go away? Take his piercing blue gaze and leave her to pretend that none of this had happened.

"You've gotten what you want. Now walk away."

The changing color of her hair under the street lamp was keeping his mind preoccupied. When he felt her gun press into his chest he frowned down at her hand. It then registered what she had just said. How could she possibly know what it was he wanted when even he had to admit his needs were changing each moment he stood closer to her.

"Now, Sydney. How do you know what it is that I desire?"

Sydney. The name sounded strange after so long under an alias. Tired of whatever game he was playing she pushed a little harder into his chest, her free hand bumping into his leg.

"I won't let you kill me Sark."

Had she ever moved so fast? From behind her she felt him press the gun into her already sensitive kidneys. Frozen, incredulous that he had disarmed her so easily, she flinched when his hand hovered over the swell of her belly.

"If I wanted to kill you. You would be dead already."

Eyes closing as his feather light touch began to stroke the sensitive skin of her stomach. The touch, as wrong as it was, awoke something in her. Time had left her alone, so alone, and his touch was a stark reminder of all that she had gone without.

Pressing against her, he was unable to stop himself; his hand seemed to have taken on a life of its own. With curious eyes, he watched as his palms circled over the swollen flesh. Through the layers of clothes, he could feel her warmth seeping into his skin.

Kill her? Breathing in the citrus scent of her hair, he couldn't imagine why he would ever do such a thing. Right now he simply wanted to be closer. Slipping the gun into his pocket, he replaced cold steel with another warm palm.

This could not be happening. Moments ago she was shopping, enjoying a night out. Leaning back into his embrace, she felt his right hand begin a path over her hip, joining its mate. He was unarmed, she should act, make him bleed for his liberties, but he was warm.

Funny, she had always thought him to be cold. His icy exterior betrayed none of the warmth he was now pouring into her. A simple touch was melting the walls built up over past weeks and months. With just a flick of his wrist he had re-awoken desperations she could not afford.

In all of his musings he had not imagined their reunion going quite like this. Arms full of the woman he had never imagined being this close to again, he found himself loathe releasing her. As her head fell against his shoulder, a hint of pale skin caught his eye. Pressing a kiss to the faint hollow that had captivated him, he waited for her retribution.

A chill ran the length of her and she forgot momentarily where she was. When had such a chaste kiss caused a blood rush to the head? When had Sark been the one to kiss her? Hands fisted and pressed just so on his stomach would end this, it would be as normal for her as breathing, but then he would be gone. Taking his warmth and kisses with him.

He wanted her, was aroused by her. That revelation was not lost on her. The feelings running through her now belonged to woman she had not known for a long time. A woman with pink hair and tequila breath.

This could not go on. Moments were passing, moments that was spent learning the taste of her skin. Her silence encouraged him. Sliding his hands upwards, plotting their course through hazy eyes, he cupped her delicious breasts. Breeding, it seemed, had some wonderful side effects. Cupping each mound firmly, he whispered into her hair.

"'I can ease your pain'."

A request? A demand? She didn't know anymore. Her body was screaming at her, electricity was shooting through her arms and legs, distracting her from thinking. Or maybe it was the soft tugging on her breasts. Where there was no where left to go, you go where you know.

Leaning against him, allowing him to absorb some of the weight she carried; she pressed her face into his neck. The soft wool of his black pea coat tickled her nose, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the teasing scent of his skin.

Seconds passed, lives were begun and ended, but neither moved. Lost in the feel of someone so close, they had no reason to hear the peals of laughter or the sirens wailing.

"Take me home."


	2. Chapter 2

Glad to see someone was looking out for some Sarkney. Please enjoy my first and only song fic and even though I am not a fan of them per say this song was a perfect fit and I couldn't help but work it in.

Sometime during the short drive, nerves had replaced adrenaline, and she was glad for the space that separated them. Since his appearance she had been unbalanced, watching as he stoked the dying fire, she wondered just what the hell she was doing. As if he could sense her apprehension, his attentions shifted once more her way.

Replacing the iron, he straightened, finding her eyes closely monitoring every action. Reassurances, comforts, he had none for her; those were words for people who weren't them. Intrigued by what appeared to be an extensive vinyl collection, he admired her taste. Selection made, he slipped the album gently from its cover and with precise movements loaded it onto the turn table, careful not to scratch it.

Music filled the space between them.  
**  
Hello?  
Is there anybody in there?  
Just nod if you can hear me.  
Is there anyone at home?**

Finding herself standing toe to toe with him, she wondered how he could move so quietly. The hardwood beneath her feet continually echoed around her during her travels. At the touch of his hand on her cheek, she abandoned her questions for responses. Closing her eyes, her hands reached for him, fingers tangled in the soft silk of his shirt.  
**  
Come on, now,  
I hear you're feeling down.  
Well I can ease your pain  
Get you on your feet again.**

Unable to tear his eyes from her, he dug his fingers into her hair, drawing her face close. Without hesitation, for hadn't they been dancing around this for to long, his lips crashed against hers. The soft moans she slipped against his tongue were maddening.

His fingers on her scalp were unknowingly driving away the apprehension that had been building. His lips were knowingly pooling desire between her legs. Lips that had abandoned hers for her neck and throat.

**Relax.  
I'll need some information first.  
Just the basic facts.**

Stepping back, he began unbuttoning her shirt, eager to see what was cleverly hidden. Each patch that was unearthed was christened and he felt the knots and tangles unravel as time passed. Dropping the dark fabric carelessly, his hands ran over the satin of her breasts and the bump of her stomach.

A finger tugged at the strap of her bra, acting bolder than she felt, she reached back to free her aching chest. Never had his eyes been brighter or cloudier, the color was hypnotizing. Finger tips on her nipples caused an involuntary flutter of her eyes and the color faded.

**Can you show me where it hurts?**

Dropping to his knees, he gently raked one set of nails over her belly, noting the sharp intake of breath. Tugging on her rosy peaks, he set to work drawing them out. Teeth replaced nails and the noises slipping from her were in a language he was desperate to learn.

The scent of her arousal assaulted him. Grabbing hold of her remaining garments he pulled both down at once. Her gasp and subsequent clawing at his shorn scalp had him pressing a smile into her curls.  
**  
There is no pain you are receding  
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.**

All at once she realized what she was abandoning and the rock in her chest crumbled at the realization. Falling back onto the cushions, she stays as he left her, eyes drawn to his fire lit profile.

**You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.**

Rough fingers parted her knees, his head slipped from her fingers, disappearing between them. Lips descended upon her. Licking, sucking, feeling that fire building so quickly, she sank further under his spell.  
**  
When I was a child I had a fever  
My hands felt just like two balloons.  
Now I've got that feeling once again**

So close, so close. Unable to formulate the words she clawed and scratched her needs. Fingers slid into her, nails scratched their response on her thighs, and teeth bore down viciously on the very center of who she was.  
**  
I can't explain you would not understand  
This is not how I am.  
I have become comfortably numb.**

Sharp and fast it rolled over her, stealing her eyes, her ears, everything but him.

Drinking in the taste of her, he felt the ten daggers digging into his scalp slack off as she sank into pleasure. Rising, he saw her eyes struggling to focus, making a show of licking his lips; he smirked as she blinked back to the present.

**O.K.  
Just a little pinprick.  
There'll be no more aaaaaaaaah!  
But you may feel a little sick.**

Stripping himself of his shirt and all other unnecessary garments, he reached for her extended hand. Standing now, her fingers seemed to be everywhere; his lips struggled to keep pace with hers as soft breasts pressed against his chest. She fit perfectly in his embrace.

Turning in his arms, she settled on all fours, stomach nestled on the pillow he had grabbed from the floor. Over her shoulder, she watched his face twist and contort as he pushed his way in.

"Aaaahhhh!"

Skin stretched, liquids accommodated, and she was whole again. His rocking began and she felt her world shift, stretch, tear, making room for another soul.

**Can you stand up?  
I do believe its working, good.  
That'll keep you going through the show  
Come on it's time to go.**

Feet planted firmly on the ground, he marveled at the smooth lines of her back. The way the curves of her buttocks slid into his hips. From deep within he knew he could withstand days, weeks, and months of torture simply by conjuring up the image of his flesh melting into hers.

**There is no pain you are receding  
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.**

Unbelievably she felt the tightness in her chest, his fingers dug into her hips, his rhythm drawing the sensations out once again. Sighing into her arm as his hand slipped around and stroked her.

**You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.**

In, out, in, out. Everything was lost to him but her and the feel of her skin on his. There were sounds erupting from her, but he couldn't make out the words just the intention. Nothing but the sound of his heart beating and her breath catching between the slapping of their skin could be heard. The loud silence was driving him closer to the edge.

**When I was a child  
I caught a fleeting glimpse  
Out of the corner of my eye.**

A smile, a laugh. She had seen it in her parent's eyes so long ago. The desire, the pain. And now she understood. Wicked digits manipulated her flesh once again, forcing her to feel, to know what it was they went through. Giving in to his demands she accepted her fate, letting herself fall over once again.  
**  
I turned to look but it was gone  
I cannot put my finger on it now**

Head lolling back she saw his face, masked in pleasure. Teeth marking sinful lips as he let desire envelope his body. Eyes open, the blue darker than she could ever have imagined. Gasping as his strokes grew deeper, eyes grew darker, she held on.

Lost somewhere between what was and what is, he struggled to breathe. Not able to look away from her face, unsure of what he saw there. Blinking away the doubts he felt his body tense, he spine lock and then he was gone.  
**  
The child is grown,**

Collapsing onto the sofa, twisting her body so her arms could wind their way around him. Staring up at the wooden beams above her, she scraped her way through the past. Leaving behind the accusations and resolutions as red marks hidden by short blonde locks. Sighing as his lips pressed softly against her belly. This was what she was now, she was his.

**The dream is gone.**

Nestled as he was, the combination of the scent of her sex and his own heavy breathing, tense muscles had abandoned him, leaving him at her mercy. Vulnerable. The word was strange to him. Even to think it, much less apply it to him, was unsettling. Get up, walk away, and never look back. Fingers on his scalp halted any movement. Small circles on his shoulder blade shattered any motivations. With a kiss he succumbed.

**I have become comfortably numb.**

Firelight dimmed. Blankets of down, replaced the sweat of the past. Buried beneath the pillows, they hid from the impending dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

Daylight was becoming precious. With each day of winter that passed the days were giving less and less of their love to the sun. Cold air wrapped around her, air cold enough to make her skin tighten painfully. Pulling the inadequate shawl across her chest, she fought the shiver creeping up her spine.

California air never got this bitter, at least no in Los Angeles. The air was temper mental, much like the starlets that soaked it in, but rarely was it ever cruel. The air here could be a bitch. Mean and hormonal her breezes gathered strength over the river and stole air from the lungs of those caught unawares.

Regardless of the chill and the breeze and the dying light, she remained in her spot. Her spot was the balcony off the master bedroom, her favorite place in the house. The new house she hadn't thought or knew she wanted until it hers.

_Theirs._

Four weeks, give or take, this would be the place her child would call home. One hand began a slow circuit of her belly as her thoughts began to drift towards the changes about to come.

Once around, twice around, half-way through the third rotation her hand faltered. A warm presence filled her. An even warmer hand placed itself over her stilled one. Two heartbeats passed and the hand over hers began to slowly help her find its path once again.

Leaning back, sharing the weight, she let her eyes close. This was the reason she had braved the cold, the air distracting her from the lure of a soft bed and thick nap. In the instant his hand cupped her ever growing breasts; thoughts of naps were gone, replaced by the heavy ache of desire. Gods, but he knew how to touch her.

Pressing her face into his neck, the soft hairs behind his ear tickled her nose, she smiled. How she had missed him these past weeks. Not that she could or would tell him, it was still a fact.

Enjoying the rich scent of him, a perfect blend of cologne and java, her musings were interrupted by a moan, hers apparently. Naughty hands were doing things to her nipple.

How she was ready to play. Teeth sought skin; she bit down on his earlobe, tit for tat. The responding pinch to the underside of her breast, always a sensitive spot, made her gasp.

"Perhaps," that voice in her ear did things to her; always had. Rocking her hips twice, she was happy to discover what she did to him.

"Perhaps we should take this inside," his voice was tighter this time, strained. Good, let him suffer as she was, his retribution would only be to her benefit.

Maybe it wasn't wise to provoke him, but she was Sydney Bristow. Smiling, she replaced words with a long lick across his neck.

"Sydney…" the consonants and vowels were a threat, a promise.

Untangling her body from his lacked any of her usual grace, but she was aroused and he was her relief. Eagerly she moved forward, having only taken two small steps before his hand caught her elbow. Once again she found herself sharing her burden.

Ever the gentleman, he led her to the French doors, ushering her in with the sweep of his hand. Smiling, she crossed the threshold, the warmth of the room a wonderful welcome.

Dropping her shawl, ignoring his smirk she was certain was aimed towards her, how he enjoyed reprimanding her on the 'atrocious treatment' of her garments. When her top followed, it was her turn to smirk. Turning, she took in his dark eyes and tight jaw, his habits didn't seem to be a bother now at all.

Before her hands could reach for her skirt, he was there. Hands, lips, and teeth began relearning the shape of her body. From his knees he looked up at her, letting her see just how much, how much of everything was in them. Cupping his cheeks, thumbs dragging over the crooked line of his lip, she felt her stomach flip and twist.

These moments, slivers of time that caught them were the one of the few things that was real to her anymore; his eyes, her hands, their skin, each thing more real to her than the days and weeks of life in between the right now.

Somewhere, someone had drawn a line. A thick, black line and she was standing on it, hovering so close to the edge, she was certain this time she would fall over. Could she do it? Could she cross that line and not look back?

As though he sensed her doubt, her confusion, he pulled them back from the place of eyes and questions. One finger strategically placed on her clit and all manner of thought that didn't pertain to his body near hers, was gone.

All was as it should be.

Hours later, the fire that had roared proudly found itself living as ashes. Through eyes, thick with sleep she studied his face. Lying still in sleep, he looked younger than he would have liked, she smiled.

As wonderful as their sex was, and the intense connection of the moments before their couplings, it was these quiet moments that she treasured the most. These moments she felt the most like the Sydney she had left behind. Staring at her lover as he slept, memorizing the cut and angles of the face that would later star in her innocent and not so innocent thoughts. It was such a wonderfully girlie thing to so.

Sleep would not be hers tonight. Satiated, warm, and resting comfortably on her side, she should have been lost in dreams. Instead she was fully awake now, in every way. Tracing the shell of his ear with one finger, she smiled wider as his head shifted away from her touch. Propping her head up on one hand, she let her eyes travel the length of him. 'Delicious'

Trading ear for cock, she slipped her hand over the length of him. Base to tip, and back again, she stroked. Hard tugs and light scratches, she took from him what she wanted. She wanted his first waking thought to be of sex, of her. She wanted him hard and ready.

Beneath her hand he twitched, at least one of her demands was being met. Her eyes slid up to his face and she was surprised by the blue eyes that met her there. With an arched eyebrow, he sent her a smirk that sent sparks of desire straight to her swelling clit.

Not for the first time, she cursed the timing of their rendezvous. Were it not for the massive stomach she was currently burdened with, she would have straddled him, sinking onto his cock, riding him until that smirk faded. Behind closed eyes the image played out, in response, her hands and fingers moved faster, harder.

"Stop…Sydney…" a strong hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her actions. Opening her eyes, she found him studying her. Whatever he saw in her face, must have pleased him and not for the first time, she wondered if he had some Rambaldi installed telepathy.

"Roll over," the request was heeded instantly. On her left side, she slipped the pillow he handed her under her stomach, back arching slightly as his fingers traced her spine.

"Mmm..." Kisses were pressed into her shoulder, distracting her from the fingers that were pressing into her buttock. Lifting and bending her leg, she let it rest on his, her hand grabbed for purchase when his fingers slipped into her.

She was wet, so very wet, swollen from their earlier round and she sensed the hesitation in his touches. Digging her fingers into his scalp, she raked her nails across the scalp.

Tender touches would be for another time, she needed him inside of her right now, "Sark…Please…" she was not above begging it seemed and when had he ever been able to resist the request of a Bristow?

Against her ass, she felt his hand guide his cock into her. Opening her legs wider, she moaned when he finally slid into her. The angle was awkward, but they were limited in their choice of positions at this point.

Besides, such as they were, he could do that, "fuck," with his hands, and that "mmphmh…," with his tongue.

He handled her body without mercy, twisting and pulling at her clit, angling his hips just right, she felt her insides clench, she was close. Her hand was still clutching at his head, and she pulled it away from her breast, she wanted his tongue on hers when she came.

"Ungh…" lights exploded behind her eyes, her orgasm washing over, fast and furious. Moaning into his mouth, she felt him smile around her mouth. Bastard, she had started this between them and he had finished it in record time and he knew it.

His hand slid to her thigh, leaving behind a shiny trail, and lifted her leg. With loose limbs and tingling skin, she let him have his way with her, pressing her fingers into his scalp, tangling her tongue with his, anything she could do to return what he had given her.

Perhaps it was enough, small gestures that would never make the final cut on one of Weiss' 'special videos', but she felt him thrust deeply, fingers pressing into her leg hard enough to bruise and she smiled. Something was definitely right.

His body had arched against her back; his lips fell slack against hers as he rode his own orgasm. Pressing small kisses onto his mouth and chin, she felt his body go limp before it fell back onto the bed.

Laughing, she settled back into his arms, if only he knew how he looked at this very moment.

"Should I be worried?" Patting his thigh, she felt his lips press a kiss into her hair.

"No. It's just sometimes it all still catches me off guard," and that was the truth. Even now months after his initial visit, she still finds herself in awe of this, connection that has grown between them.

"I see," maybe he wanted to say more, maybe not, but sleep was calling her now and she was ready to accept it. Tugging at the covers, she pulled them up, glad when he took over. It seemed her limbs were done with moving at this moment.

Sighing, she stilled the hand that was tracing poems on her hip; she pulled it over the swell of her belly and covered it with her own. Not that she could or would admit it, but she was glad that he was here, now, and more importantly in the coming morning.

Dawn had broken some minutes ago. He was nearing the completion of his run, a habit that had been hers first, he adjusting his breathing, readying him for the final sprint, the last leg that would take him back. Back to the warmth, back to her.

Early morning runs had been her thing, he had preferred the late afternoon, it was one of the many things he had learned from her file when he had been working for her mother.

Running as he was now, across their beach, he found himself eager to be finished. His time here was not about solitude. Pushing his legs harder, counting off the steps as he went, he tried not to think about why he still came.

In all their time together, she had never asked why he came and he had never asked why she let him in. It simply was. They simply were.

The why's and when's, the reasons, if you prefer, were left silent. Stories, ideas, thoughts, like and dislikes were shared. It felt to him as though they were two people trapped, unsure as to whether or not there was hope of rescue, and clinging to person closest, the person most likely to understand.

He was nearing the completion of his run, adjusting his breathing; he readied himself for the final sprint, the last leg that would take him back. Back to the warmth, back to her.

Stretched out before him, the shoreline turned to the left and the house came into view. Structurally sound, it stood three stories high on several acres of prime river front property.

He never questioned the impulse that had gone into buying the land; he simply found the renting of any place to be a waste. When he had brought her here for the first time, he had helped her from the car, reading the question in her eyes, that she would never ask, he simply handed her the keys.

With an arched eyebrow and a ghost of a smile, she had closed her hands around the metal and headed up the pathway to the front door. Leaning back on the hood of his car, he had allowed her time alone; time to see and touch and wonder at it all, as he knew she would want to do.

Memories were wrapping themselves up in the present. Instead of a bitter winter wind on his face, he felt the calming breeze of autumn. Quietly he had stood, waiting for her.

Minutes fell forward and it was in the very moment before he made the decision to follow her, that he caught his first glimpse of her. A dark silhouette on the white balcony, seeking him out, and for one impossible moment their eyes met. Neither a breath nor a thought passed until one slender arm extended towards him. There was no force greater on Earth than the one generated by the welcoming flick of her wrist.

Pulled from the past by the wail of the gulls overhead, his eyes fell towards the house. Again she stood waiting and when she was certain his eyes saw nothing but her, she reached for him.

Pushing harder, he made quick work of the distance between them. Eager for shelter, he welcomed her hands as they urged blood back into his fingers. Catching her arm before she could head towards the scream of the kettle, he pressed a kiss to hand that had slipped into his, paying close attention to the faint blue veins in her wrist, how he coveted them.

Not that he could or would tell her that, but it was still a fact.


End file.
